


First Star of the Approaching Night

by Bookreader525



Category: Sing (2016)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gift Fic, One Shot, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookreader525/pseuds/Bookreader525
Summary: Johnny has known for weeks that today would be a great day.





	First Star of the Approaching Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andrea_ODown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrea_ODown/gifts).



> Just a quirky little one-shot I wrote for my good friend Andrea's birthday. I hope you have a great day <3

Johnny starts his day with a small coffee and time spent aimlessly staring out the grubby window in the kitchenette of the tiny apartment above the garage. The sun looks like a pale, glaring white smudge through the dirty panes.

As he works his way through the morning and early afternoon, he puts intense focus into noticing every small detail. He notices the sweat gleaming on a pig's forehead as he lays bricks in an empty lot; he notices the black spots on the sidewalk from gum and grime long forgotten; but most of all, he notices the truly beautiful things.

He sees the palm trees in the distance, rising high above the street as if they're having a contest with the buildings to see who can stretch the highest. Their broad green leaves sway in the light breeze and the accompanying rustle is music to his ears. He sees a couple walking on the opposite sidewalk, hand in hand and their arms swinging back and forth together, blissfully ignorant of everyone and everything else besides each other. It must be wonderful to be captured in such a perfect little bubble bouncing its way cheerfully through the world, unaware of anything unpleasant or harmful.

He sees a million things all at once, and he loves it.

Johnny turns onto a new block and stops at a corner store. He paces through the aisles, weaving a back-and-forth pattern through each row. His fingers brush lightly over sale tags and drum against smooth cans of food marked with flashy labels. He then stops in front of a display in the final aisle. It is an array of balloons, all herded into a cage on the ceiling under a flickering light. Their strings swing down, coiled and twirling in the cool breath of a loud air conditioning unit.

He picks one that seems the most apt for this event, and continues on his way after purchasing it.

His Converse are silent on the sidewalk, he notices, when surrounded by so much city noise. It is like the rubber soles of his shoes have been replaced with marshmallows. The cement under his feet has been replaced by wispy clouds, and he is launched high above into the sky as the smile on his face spreads.

He knew from the second he woke up this morning that today would be a fabulous day. He has known for a while now, actually, that today has been destined to be great. He has been planning this day out for weeks, but in the end he has betrayed every single possible plan he set ahead of time.

He decided to forgo any quick transportation such as his truck or skateboard in favor of walking.

He decided to buy a single balloon from an ice-cold corner store illuminated by dying fluorescent lights. This is quite unlike the enormous gift basket he had originally envisioned he would be carrying right now.

Even so, this day could not be going any more perfect.

Johnny finally arrives at his destination twenty or so minutes later, and he curls his fingers tighter around the balloon string. He closes his fist tighter and tighter until his nails are digging into the soft skin of his palm. He wouldn't let go of this balloon string for all the wealth in the world.

The waiting room is dull and he is once again greeted by harsh overhead lights. He is perched on the edge of a hard plastic chair that is far too small for an animal of his size. One of his feet taps on the cement floor, and suddenly his shoes are the loudest things in the world.

After a century, a gruff voice calls out his name. Johnny stands and rushes over to the desk. A few more words are spoken, but his ears don't pick up on them. The majority of his senses are focused on the large gorilla coming out of a back hallway. Bulky handcuffs are still around his wrists, pulling them down so that his arms dangle limply in front of him. A frowning crocodile police officer leans over, inserting a key into the cuffs and letting them fall open.

Johnny's father grins, flexing his wrists and wriggling his fingers. The too-small white t-shirt stretches taut over his broad chest as he lifts his arms to bring his son into a hug.

"D- Dad…" Johnny sniffles, letting his tears dampen the musty fabric of his father's shirt.

"I know, son. I know."

Warm hands rest on Johnny's back, grabbing bunches of his leather jacket and pulling him in closer. The two of them lean into each other as the balloon bobs silently above them.

"I… I got ya somethin'," Johnny says, detaching himself only to offer the balloon string to the older gorilla.

"Aw, y' didn' hafta," his father's thick accent laments as bloodshot blue eyes land on the cheap gift.

"Of  _course_ I had ta! I… I had ta get somethin' for ya." Johnny shrugs. "I missed ya."

His dad smirks. "I missed ya too, m'boy."

The two of them make their way out of the gray stone building, cops keeping a close eye on them as they go.

"Big Daddy's finally outta here, eh?" a rhino cop mutters to a fellow.

"About time," the other officer agrees.

The pair watch the father and son duo move farther and farther away from their past, their well-muscled forms very significant under the clear blue sky. A single balloon is hovering above them like a watchful eye, playing along with the summer wind. The first cop squints to read the words printed on it— but before he can make them out, the father lets go.

The balloon drifts higher and higher, teasing clouds and maintaining its peaceful dance just like the palm leaves. Johnny and his father tilt their heads back, the latter's burly arm resting on the shoulders of the former, and together they watch and squint and battle with the sunlight for a view of the balloon. It still persists with its dangerous journey, going up and up until it pops somewhere near the first star of the approaching night.


End file.
